Chapter 80: The Shaman’s Laboratory
"There’s no need..." Kellar cut himself off mid-sentence. He paused for a moment and nodded. "You’re right. It would be better to go check it out."
With his [Alchemy] skill, he knew he might discover something interesting hidden inside, making the trip well worth the effort. Kellar and Krag set off toward the former shaman’s residence, but Kellar couldn’t help noticing that Grok was following right behind them, hyper-vigilant and constantly scanning their surroundings.
"Why aren’t you walking alongside us? Why are you following so closely?" said Kellar, turning his head slightly.
"Forgive me for taking such liberties, Shaman," said Grok, bowing his head slightly as he walked. "The shaman of the tribe has always had a dedicated personal guardian. Since you haven’t chosen one yet, and because Captain Krag has always been the overall leader, I’ve taken it upon myself as his direct deputy to guard you both for now. I apologize if I’ve overstepped my bounds."
"Don’t worry about it. I hadn’t really thought about it, but I don’t think I need a bodyguard anyway," said Kellar, a small arc of red lightning crackling across his fingers.
"You are indeed powerful, Shaman," said Grok, looking at the energy in Kellar’s hand with deep respect. "However, you shouldn’t have to lower yourself to fight every minor pest that crosses your path. That duty should fall to your guardian."
"That’s a valid point. I’ll consider it," said Kellar.
They soon arrived at the former shaman’s secluded hut. Since Kellar had eliminated him so quickly during the takeover, the former leader had zero time to hide or burn any of his personal belongings, leaving everything exactly as he had used it last.
Kellar pushed the curtain aside and stepped inside. He began ransacking the space, overturning wooden chests and tearing through hidden compartments until he located a concealed entryway leading into a private laboratory.
The room was structured for a primitive village. Leather scrolls and recipe notes were stacked high on rough wooden tables alongside dozens of hanging bundles of dried herbs and roots. Glass and ceramic jars held strange, bubbling liquids, while small clay hearths supported crude distillation tubes and flexible hoses made from unknown animal organs.
"Get some people to pack everything up—every scroll, every jar, and every piece of equipment—and move it to my residence," said Kellar, examining a rack of dried plants. "I’ll analyze it all little by little."
"I’ll organize the transport right away, Shaman," said Krag.
"Good. Let’s head back," said Kellar.
Once the crates from the laboratory were stacked in Kellar’s yard, he unstopped one of the jugs containing the original tribal liquor and took a small sip to taste it. The flavor was harsh, foul, and left a bitter, unpleasant aftertaste in his throat.
As he swallowed, a bright window flashed before his vision:
[Alchemy Skill Activated - Substance Analysis]
Status: Unstable and Toxic Brew
Optimization Recipe Detected: [Bald Monkey Ale]
Required Modifications: Temperature stabilization through basic distillation and neutralization of impurities.
Suggested Ingredients: Frost-Cranberry (to control heat and prevent the mash from scorching) and Sun-Dried Fire-Moss (to break down sugars from the Winter-Grown Maize).
"I see... the skill doesn’t just identify the components, it shows me how to fix the formula," said Kellar, setting the jug on the table.
Following the instructions provided by his skill, he assembled a basic distillation apparatus using the clay hearth, ceramic jugs, and flexible animal-gut hoses he had salvaged. He lit a low fire under the main vessel to slowly heat the fermented liquor.
He added a pinch of [Sun-Dried Fire-Moss] to the boiling mash to dissolve the thick residue and placed [Frost-Cranberries] along the cooling pipes to maintain an even temperature. The vapor traveled through the hose into a jug submerged in cold water, where the liquid began to drip.
When the process finished, Kellar poured some of the new liquid into a wooden cup. The mixture no longer smelled of rot; it now possessed a deep golden color and a thick, rich head of foam. He took a full sip, feeling a smooth malt flavor with a subtle warm kick that immediately spread across his chest.
A new notification appeared:
[Item Created: Bald Monkey Ale (Low Grade)]
Effects: Moderate body warmth restoration, minor stamina recovery, and slight increase in physical constitution after long-term consumption.
"I didn’t manage to concentrate it into high-proof spirits for cleaning wounds, but this is infinitely better than the trash they were drinking," said Kellar, satisfied with the result.
Heavy footsteps echoed from the path as the hunting party entered the yard, hauling wooden sleds laden with giant, freshly gutted river fish. Because Kellar had put Borgan in his place earlier, not a single strip of meat had been pocketed or withheld; every last catch was accounted for and brought to the central area, where the hunters and their families waited silently to see how the food would be distributed.
As the crowd gathered, their eyes naturally shifted toward Kellar. They watched him crouched over a burning clay hearth, pouring jars of the former shaman’s precious liquor into clay tubes and boiling it away. Whispers began to ripple through the assembly.
"Is he burning the alcohol?" whispered one of the hunters.
"That was the old shaman’s brew... even if it tasted like sludge, it kept us warm during the cold nights," said another, shaking his head. "What a waste."
Kellar paid no attention to the murmurs. He lifted the freshly filled jug of [Bald Monkey Ale], poured a splash into a wooden bowl, and handed it to Grok, who was standing nearby.
"Drink," said Kellar.
Grok took the bowl with hesitant hands, expecting the same burning, foul-tasting swill they had endured for years. Taking a cautious sip, his eyes widened in shock. He drained the entire bowl in a single gulp, smacking his lips as a flush of warm energy spread down to his toes.
"By the ancestors..." said Grok, his voice trembling as he wiped foam from his mouth. "This isn’t a waste... this is a miracle!"
Kellar turned to Krag, handing him the entire jug.
"Divide this among the hunters along with the fish rations," said Kellar. "Let them see what actual alcohol tastes like."
The quiet doubts vanished in an instant as Krag began pouring portions, replacing the crowd’s skepticism with loud cheers that echoed across the mountain village.